


Mrs. Carter goes to Hollywood

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I just want Amanda Carter to have a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9681440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: It was all in a day's work for Peggy and Daniel to deal with government conspiracies, undercover Soviet spies, and incomprehensible rifts in space and time. A visit from Peggy's mother, on the other hand, was something else entirely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-"The world yet to come," but happier.

Peggy loved her mother, there was no question of that, and of course Amanda Carter was eager to meet her first grandchild, even if she had to fly half the way around the world by herself to do so, since Peggy’s father was too busy with work to take all the time off. And of course her mother was an exceptional housekeeper with certain expectations, so of course Peggy _meant_ to clean the house in the days before her arrival, she really did, only a case involving another one of Howard’s stolen inventions came up very suddenly and demanded both her and Daniel’s full attention. And so after Amanda Carter arrived at the house for the first time and spent a few hours cooing over the baby, she looked up, observed the cobwebs in the corner and the foot-tall weeds in the backyard and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink (that one wasn’t Peggy’s fault; Daniel was in charge of those)—and tactfully yet firmly suggested that “a light dusting” might be in order, and it would be no trouble at all for her to take care of.

“A light dusting,” in addition to attending to the aforementioned problem areas, included thoroughly disinfecting and scrubbing down every surface that could possibly be scrubbed, clearing a large number of suspect items out of the pantry, and re-ironing and reorganizing all the clothes in the closet. (“The neckline is rather daring, isn’t it?” she remarked about a few of Peggy’s dresses, and then when it came to Daniel’s shirts: “They’re very…colorful.”) It was very kind of her mother to take on the task, and there was something to be said for having a clean house—in fact, between the founding of SHIELD and the baby, she and Daniel hadn’t done a proper cleaning in close to a year—and it was driving Peggy absolutely nuts.

Even Daniel became a bit concerned as the crusade continued into the following morning. “There’s going to be nothing left once she’s finished,” he muttered to Peggy as her mother swept through the bathroom, inspecting and then discarding five nearly-empty bottles of shampoo. “Think we could drop her off at Stark’s place with the baby? We need to get to the office anyway.”

“We can’t leave her there,” she blurted as she bobbed Maria up and down, patting her back. The Jarvises had been extremely generous babysitters ever since Peggy and Daniel returned to work, but asking them to entertain both the baby and Amanda Carter for a day was something else. Visions swirled through Peggy’s head of all the potential dangers of leaving her mother to her own devices at Howard’s mansion: fainting at the sight of a game of water giggles; doing a “light dusting” of the lab; being stalked around the estate by Bernard—or perhaps taking up a rolling pin and chasing after the flamingo instead...  


“Peg, she’ll be fine for a few hours without us. The Jarvises will take care of her, and she’ll be occupied with the baby anyway.”

“Yes, I know, but…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” they heard Peggy’s mother exclaim as she extracted a large tangle of hair from the shower drain. “Margaret Elizabeth—”

Their daughter hacked up a large glob of spit on Peggy’s blouse, and Peggy sighed. “…All right, I changed my mind.”

* * *

She put the whole business out of her head for a few hours while she reviewed the details of the case with the team—the missing invention in question was Howard’s precision laser welding prototype, cheerfully dubbed “the death ray” by Jack, and this was not the first, not the second, but the _third_ time it had been stolen in less than five years—and later, and she was driving back to the mansion to pick up her mother, she even managed to convince herself that she had been foolish to have misgivings. That feeling lasted until Jarvis opened the door.

“This is not entirely my fault,” he began.

Peggy arched an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, is not your fault, Mr. Jarvis?”

“Ah…” He cleared his throat. “About forty five minutes ago, we put little Miss Sousa down for a nap, and I asked Mrs. Carter if she might like some refreshments. She requested—and I quote—‘something strong and tropical.’”

“Mr. Jarvis, this is my _mother_. She drinks half a glass of wine once a year on her birthday and falls asleep.”

“Yes, I gathered as much, so I hope you appreciate my dilemma.” He took out his handkerchief and dabbed beads of sweat off his forehead.

Peggy sighed. “Where is she?”

“Sitting out by the pool with several of Mr. Stark’s production assistants. A little sloshed, I’m afraid.”

“Bloody hell.” She threw up her hands and stormed past him out to the patio, where a pair of well-endowed production assistants were swimming lazily around the pool. Her mother had kicked off her pumps, removed her stockings, and was dangling her feet in the water. The half-finished drink in her hand glistened an obscene shade of turquoise in the sunshine.

“Peggy!” she exclaimed. “Your friend Mr. Jarvis is simply delightful. This drink is _excellent_. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Peggy said patiently. “But it’s time to go home, Mum. Daniel is picking up dinner for us.”

“Oh. Of course. Daniel is lovely, you know.” She took another sip of her drink and hiccuped. “And Mr. Stark! So generous. Oh yes, I should tell you that I pushed back my flight a few days to accommodate the filming schedule; I hope that isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

“Wha—I beg your pardon?”

“Mr. Stark asked if I would take a small part in the picture he’s working on, and he was so kind about it I couldn’t possibly refuse. Even though—” she lowered her voice, “—the story is based on some sort of comic book. Dreadful, don’t you agree?”

Peggy took the drink away. “Where is Howard? This is ridiculous; I’ll tell him you can’t do this.”

Her mother frowned. “But I _want_ to.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I always wanted to be in a picture.”

Peggy stared at her. “You’ve never said anything about that.”

“Well, what would be the point of telling you? I never thought it would happen,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh. I see.” Peggy set the drink down on a table and helped her mother to her feet. “I suppose you should do it, then. Why don’t you dry off and get ready to go? You’ll have to practice your lines and get some rest if you’re going to be a movie star.”

* * *

Amanda Carter emerged hesitantly from the makeup and hair studio. “I feel awfully silly, Peggy. Maybe this is a mistake.”

“You look wonderful, Mum.” Peggy had to hide a smile at the sight of her mother in a toga and a stiff black wig. Howard’s movie, she gathered, had something to do with an island of busty warrior women with golden swords and magic lassos: a bit on the fanciful side for her tastes, though she generally approved of the concept. “Do you remember your line?”

“‘Welcome home, Princess,’” her mother recited, followed immediately by an anxious, “How was that?”

“Very convincing,” Peggy assured her as she helped straighten the wig.

“Places, ladies!” Howard barked, and the cast scurried to their positions. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want a role, Peg? You’d be a real knockout in a toga. I bet the chief would get a kick out of it too.”

“Mm. I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Howard shrugged before turning back to the scene. “Barbara! We’ve been over this already; no bubble gum on set. You can blow all the bubbles you want at my pool party later.”

A production assistant came teetering down the stairs just before the cameras started rolling. “Phone call for Marge,” she announced breathily, and when nobody responded, she repeated in a louder voice, “Call for Marge Sousa!”

“Oh, what is it _now_ …” Peggy muttered as she followed the assistant back to the office and snatched up the phone. “Jack, there had better be a good reason for this.”

“Got a problem, Marge,” Jack drawled. “We just got a tip from an informant that the death ray was picked up from the black market by a…former lady friend of Stark’s. Some gal named Clara Catercorner, if you can believe it, and apparently she’s got a bone to pick. We think she might be coming after Stark. We’ve got backup on the way.”

“I’m on it,” she snapped at Jack before hanging up. Peggy drew her gun and left the office on full alert. The war and all her years in the SSR had given her the ability to keep her cool in an emergency, and it was worse than useless to panic in such a situation anyway—but damn it all, that was her mother down there on the studio floor, not to mention all the other innocent cast and crew members. She would be having a very long and not very enjoyable conversation with Howard about all this later.

The scene was rolling by the time she returned to the floor and grabbed Howard by the back of his collar. “Gee, Peggy, if you wanted to be in the movie, all you had to do was ask—”

She jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “That was Jack Thompson on the phone just now. The name ‘Clara Catercorner’ doesn’t ring a bell, does it?”

He snorted. “Who?”

“Well, she’s currently in possession of your missing invention and is most likely planning to come here and kill you with it.”

Howard stared at her blankly. “Clara, huh?” He frowned and muttered to himself, “Redhead? No, that can’t be right. Was she the brunette with the killer legs?”

“That would be Dolores,” a woman interrupted from behind them. Peggy slowly turned around to see a petite blond standing just ten feet away with the death ray pointed straight at her and Howard.

“Ah, the blond with the freckles; now I remember!” Howard blurted, clearly not helping his own case.

“Put the device down, Miss Catercorner,” Peggy said calmly. “We can talk about this.”

Clara did not appear to be in a negotiating mood. “Out of the way,” she snapped at Peggy. “Howard’s gonna pay for—” She suddenly slumped forward with a surprised look on her face as Peggy’s mother hit her on the back of the head with a wooden sword, sending splinters flying everywhere.

“Peggy, I hit that woman,” her mother said faintly, staring at the broken sword in her hand. “In the head. Oh dear.”

“You certainly did, Mum.” Peggy bent down and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her purse. “She’ll be fine. We have some agents on the way right now. They’ll want to ask a few questions, and then you can finish the rest of the scene.”

“Finish the scene? But I damaged studio property…oh, Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry; I will pay for a replacement, this is entirely my fault—”

But Howard grabbed her hand and kissed it. “My dear, it’s a piece of wood with gold paint. I’ll get you a real sword when we reshoot the scene.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Peggy said firmly. “Howard, why don’t you make sure your device is secured? The backup from SHIELD should be here soon.”

“Whatever you say, Peg,” Howard said. He carefully picked up his invention, cradled it in his arms, and gave Peggy’s mother a speculative glance. “Mrs. Carter, if you’re interested in moving to a warmer climate, I _could_ use a bodyguard—”

“Out!” Peggy ordered, and he sauntered away with a grin. She finished handcuffing the woman and hauled her up into a seated position. She groaned and blinked a few times as she regained consciousness.

Her mother bit her lip. “So this is your job, then?”

“Ah…in a matter of speaking, I suppose.” Peggy braced herself for a lecture, but her mother seemed more thoughtful than upset.

“Well, it’s certainly…invigorating.”

It seemed like she had more to say, but at that moment Jack strode into the room with Howard not far behind him. “Listen, Stark, the device is now part of a criminal investigation, and we wouldn’t even be in this goddamn position if you hadn’t had your death ray stolen from under your nose _again_...”

Peggy cleared her throat. “Jack Thompson, I would like to introduce you to my mother, Amanda Carter. She subdued the suspect.”

“Did she?” He raised his eyebrows at the toga and the askew wig, but fortunately he had the good sense not to say anything about it. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carter,” he said instead, taking her hand.

Her mother turned slightly pink. “And you as well, Mr. Thompson. All of Peggy’s friends have been so kind.” Peggy almost missed her add under her breath, “And so _handsome_.”

“Mum, why don’t you go with Howard so you can reshoot the scene?” Peggy cut in. She took the sword away from her mother and steered her and Howard back towards the set before leaving to help Jack escort a dazed Clara Catercorner out to the car.

Once he had put her in the backseat and closed the car door, he turned to Peggy and shook his head. “Jesus, Marge. Does giving people concussions run in the family? Are all the Carters like this?” He gave Peggy a sly look. “We’re still looking for agents to staff the new London office, right?”

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow and tapped the broken sword against her palm.

That seemed to get the message across, and Jack didn’t raise the subject again as they left the studio. And yet…her mother had somehow managed to sneak up on the suspect and take her down without a single shot fired. She hadn’t hesitated when it was time to act, she had remained calm throughout, and she had done it all without any training. Jack wasn't wrong about the London office being understaffed, either. Peggy leaned back in her seat while they drove back to the office, an idea taking root in her mind.

* * *

They spent the final evening of Amanda Carter’s stay over at the Stark estate, and after they had polished off a four-course meal and several bottles of obscenely expensive liquor, Howard wheeled out the projector. “We’ve got a little preview for you,” he told Peggy’s mother with a wink.

She looked slightly embarrassed, but she didn’t object as he set the roll of film in place and Jarvis dimmed the lights. The projector whirred to life and the scene opened with a shot of the tropical island backdrop before zooming in to the beach, where a gaggle of extras greeted an arriving ship. “Wait for it,” Howard said. The camera panned to the left, following the lead actress past the long row of extras to an elaborately decorated stage. One extra took a step back, revealing Peggy’s mother standing behind her at the end of the row. She said her line and the camera cut away.

Peggy glanced over to see her mother’s reaction. Amanda Carter was staring at the screen with wide eyes, her hand clamped over her mouth. “That’s me,” she said softly.

Peggy and Daniel traded smiles, and Peggy leaned over and whispered in Howard’s ear, “Thank you, Howard. Truly.”

Howard grinned. “Hey, I know a star when I see one.”

“Just so you’re aware, I’m still upset with you over the business with the death ray.”

“I told you, it’s a precision laser welding prototype—”

“I don’t care what you call it. How many girlfriends of yours have tried to kill you, anyway?”

He frowned and counted on his fingers. “…four? All right, all right, I get it. Geez.”

With the film screening over and dessert cleared away, the Jarvises decided it was time for some dancing, and so they turned on the radio, pushed the tables and chairs to the corners of the room, and started up a lively swing dance. After a few songs, Daniel stood up and held his hand out to Peggy’s mother. “Would you do me the honor?”

She looked over at Peggy and back at him. “Oh. Oh no, I couldn’t possibly, I don’t know any of these new steps…”

“Me neither,” Daniel laughed.

She actually blushed. “Well, if you insist…” She handed Maria off to Peggy and followed Daniel, and they spent the next couple songs just swaying a little in place and having a conversation Peggy couldn’t quite hear, but both were smiling.

As the tempo picked up again, Howard tapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Come on, Chief, let the rest of us have a turn.” Peggy’s mother blushed again as she let go of Daniel and took Howard’s arm.

Daniel joined Peggy and the baby back on the couch. He draped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “She looks happy,” he murmured as they watched Howard teach her a new dance. She picked up the steps quickly, and it wasn’t long before she took her turn dancing with Jarvis.

Peggy nodded. She couldn’t quite remember a time when she had seen her mother like this; so relaxed and yet so energetic. She had been overjoyed at Peggy and Daniel's wedding, of course, and later on when Peggy told her they were going to have a baby, but this felt different. It reminded Peggy a little of the restless, nonstop energy she had seen as a child when her mother hosted elaborate dinner parties—forever darting back and forth from the kitchen with a gracious smile on her face, no detail too small to be overlooked—though even then, Amanda Carter had always given off the impression that a sinkhole would open up under the house if Peggy had even one hair out of place or if Michael got a drop of sauce on his shirt.

But tonight, somewhere between the film screening and the dancing, the tension had slipped away. As the song ended, something compelled Peggy to give the baby to Daniel and walk over to her mother. Amanda Carter’s smile widened as Jarvis stepped aside so Peggy could have a turn.

Peggy took the lead first, and they laughed as they tried to avoid stomping on each other’s feet as they worked out the steps together. But soon they found their rhythm, and their friends cheered them on as Peggy spun her mother around. Then they switched and her mother took the lead as a slower song came on the radio. “Have you liked your stay?” Peggy asked her.

“Oh yes, it’s been lovely.” She hesitated. “Peggy, Mr. Stark asked me if I would like to be in another movie of his, and I told him I couldn’t, I’m leaving tomorrow and I’ve already given you and Daniel enough trouble…”

“Don’t say that; we’ve enjoyed having you.”

Her mother shook her head. “So I told Mr. Stark that I would be happy to be in a picture the next time I visit—soon, I hope—but I wanted you to be in it with me.”

Peggy stared at her, temporarily speechless, and her mother quickly added, “I know you are very busy with your job and the baby, and I understand if you don’t have time or don’t want to—”

“Mum,” Peggy interrupted. “I would love to.”

“You would?” Her mother beamed.

“Of course,” she said, and meant it. Now it was her turn to hesitate. “And Mum…I’ve got a proposition for you, too…”


End file.
